


Dissonance

by RosaClearwater



Category: Warehouse 13
Genre: Enjoy!, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, I'm a bit of a music nerd, but I'm not an expert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-30
Updated: 2017-08-04
Packaged: 2018-12-08 20:00:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 5,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11653704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RosaClearwater/pseuds/RosaClearwater
Summary: Most people underestimated the power that music could hold. Fortunately, Artie Nielsen was not like most people.





	1. Prelude

This was a section of the Warehouse he rarely visited if he could help it: the music aisles. 

 

Most people underestimated the power that music could hold. Fortunately, Artie Nielsen was not most people.

 

Ever since his hands graced the keys of a piano, he understood the beautiful power behind the music. The tone of a piece, the tempo, the style, it could all guide humanity to glorious places.

 

And, it could also guide humanity to places that never should be explored.

 

Now, as much as he loathed to go through this particular section while suffering from the flu - courtesy of Pete - he knew it was necessary. Claudia had already deflated out of the Warehouse and sunk into bed a little over three days ago.

  
  


They had already been starting to run behind on inventory.

 

Granted, in a place like the Warehouse, it always felt like they could never catch up. 

 

The weary agent shook himself out of his reverie before he lost his focus. It was never a good idea to by lost to your thoughts in  _ any  _ section of the Warehouse.

 

But the music section was a hypnotic nightmare of its own. Little trills and notes whispered down the aisles, tickling one’s curiosity and stirring emotions. 

 

Aggressive tones beckoned forth darker desires, soothing instruments stole your time. Every piece in this section -- instrument or otherwise -- vibrated with a luring sound.

 

He coughed, glaring at the shelves. His headache was leaving the Badlands and entering the Worse lands. 

 

And the dissonant sounds twirling through the air were not helping.

 

While most sections of the Warehouse were silent, with artifacts feigning coyness until attention was given, this was one of the few exceptions.

 

He huffed in irritation, frustrated that after years of taking care of himself he was getting taken down by a measly flu. 

 

And even though he knew it was time to stop and take a step away from work to recover, he was almost halfway through the string section. 

 

Now, Artie Nielsen could be considered a messy dresser, an unusual thinker, and an unusually irascible personality, especially without his coffee.

 

But, he was not the type of person to finish only half of the job. 

 

Which brought his attention to a suspiciously quiet, suspiciously familiar, viola.

 

This instrument triggered a faint memory in his worn down brain. And even though memories involving artifacts normally set off alarm bells in his brain… the flu fog silenced his common sense, allowing reckless curiosity to mist over the agent.

 

Artie blinked. 

 

Realized his hands were only centimeters from picking up the viola. 

 

And immediately took a step back to try to shake the metaphorical fog away. 

 

He really shouldn't have been out there. Especially alone. 

 

In his haste to uncharacteristically scurry away from the unknown, his hand brushed the strings of another nearby violin. A chord was swiped into the space.

 

And then Artie Nielsen was gone to world.


	2. Tremolo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Let’s play with a different perspective, shall we?

 

Claudia stirred from her bed, immediately knowing something was wrong.

 

She wasn’t Pete, she didn’t really get “vibes”. She also couldn’t say if this was just her imagination acting up, or if there was really something wrong. 

 

“Holy... something, Batman.” Came the drained mumble. She didn’t want to get out of bed, but she also didn’t want to be too late to stop whatever was wrong.

 

Because, the more awake she became, the more she realized that this was a stronger version of the same feeling when Arti-- 

 

Yeah, there would be no more thinking about  _ that _ until she got some answers.

 

So, the young woman pushed herself out of bed and dragged herself down the stairs. She forced her weary body to keep going because adrenaline wasn’t kicking in just yet.

 

“Hey, Claudia, you shouldn’t be out of bed just yet.” Myka was leaning near the entrance, arms crossed in concern. Claudia just looked at her, a tinge of jealousy emerging because Myka and Artie were the only ones that didn’t seem to be sick.

 

But she couldn’t afford to be childish right now.

 

“Something’s wrong, and I need to go to the Warehouse.” Myka just looked at her for a few moments, and Claudia refrained from scoffing in frustration. She knew that Myka trusted her, that the agent no longer saw her as a potential problem to be cautious of.

 

But she also wasn’t budging from her spot.

 

“Please, Myka.” She could understand Myka’s hesitance: It seemed they were all more vulnerable when it came to flu strains and illness because of working in the Warehouse. And, that working in the Warehouse could worsen any illness.

 

But Claudia wasn’t about to let a flu  _ or  _ Myka stop her.

 

“Okay,”

 

“I’m glad you agreed,” The younger of the two women said as she made her way down the stairs. “I would have hated having to nerve pinch you.” The agent huffed at this, but wasn’t really offended.

 

“You’re not a Vulcan, Claudia.”   
  


“Spock was only  _ half  _ a Vulcan and he didn’t let that stop him.”

 

When they got into the car, Myka observed Claudia for a few moments. She was still a little too pale for the agent’s taste, but she also held that steely look in her eye. The one she only got when someone she cared about was in danger.

 

The fact that she was so certain this was the case only served to further concern Myka.

 

Because only one person was supposed to be at the Warehouse right now.

 

And Myka was starting to get her own “vibe” too.

…

 

“Remember: we are only going to investigate for an hour and then you’re going back to bed.”

 

“Deal.”

 

The car pulled up to their eclectic, unassuming sanctuary. 

 

…

 

“Artie?” 

 

Empty. No sign of their boss in the office.

 

Although Myka only seemed concerned at his absence, Claudia was worried.

 

She knew her gut was right.

 

“Okay. Let’s try--”   
  
The Farnsworth had already been pulled out and opened.

 

_ Static. _

 

“Now do you believe me?”

 

…

 

They had deduced what sections Artie had planned to inventory within minutes.

 

And though they had to use the zipline, there was only determination zipping them through the air as they silently scanned the sections. Claudia was unusually quiet, not only due to worry but also due to a weariness brought on by the flu. 

 

The glorious mysteries of the Warehouse only seemed to drain her today.

 

...

 

There was nothing in the Impressionism section. 

 

No sign of a harried Artie in the creepy-as-hell aisles of glass creations. 

 

Two areas down, three more to go.

 

…

 

_ “Artie!” _

 

He never sprawled out on the floor. The floor and he had never been friends and he always loudly complained whenever Claudia lied down on the floor to provoke him.

 

Memories of a calmer time tried to take her mind away from the scene before her.

 

But it wasn’t working.

 

His skin was never this pale. When Claudia had begun to exhibit symptoms, he immediately took her back to the Warehouse. She had groggily come in with pale skin and a weary look, and he  _ knew  _ something was wrong.

 

Just like she knew they were already past wrong and reaching a place she never wanted to go.

 

Because Claudia could always tell when Artie was breathing. Even when his breath caught in frustration -- normally whenever she messed around with his routine -- or gasped in surprise -- normally whenever Dr. Calder dropped by.

 

The fact was that, in this moment, she couldn’t tell if Artie was even-- 

 

Exhausted legs were straining to go past warp speed. A chilled and feverish brain was trying to not to go to red alert.

 

“Claudia!”

 

How was Myka already ahead of her?

 

“Claudia, stop!”

 

She slowed down, surprised at how difficult it was to catch her breath. The cacophony of sound that haunted this aisle was not helping.

 

“Please, don’t be--”

 

And then she saw the slightest hint of movement, and suddenly the world tilted.

 

Arms caught her, as she began to shake. Memories of losing Joshua were taunting reminders that even though Artie was alive, he was by no means okay.

 

“Claudia, you have to calm down.” Her energy was setting off some of the nearby instruments. A viola was screeching over a few feet away. A tuning fork was vibrating, with hints of blue shimmering around it. 

 

The young woman forced herself to close her eyes, to inhale serenity, to let the tremors fade away. It was a trick Leena attempted to teach her a long time ago, and it seemed to work.

 

Until she saw him again.

 

“Claudia,” Myka was far too calm. “Claudia, I need you to get some goo.”

 

The woman in question saw through Myka’s request -- yes, they needed to neutralize whatever artifact was controlling Artie, but it was also a reason for her not to fixate on Artie being in such a state.

 

Her feet mechanically stole her away from the scene. Her eyes scanned for Neutralizer, but all she could really see was his clear helplessness.

 

But, she wasn’t alone. Together, she and Myka could figure out exactly what was controlling Artie.

 

That was the only thing that was keeping her going. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: My headcanon is that Claudia instinctively knew something was wrong at the Warehouse, even after she left at the end of the Season 1 finale. I just also believe that she was scared and angry and wasn’t ready to go back just yet.
> 
> But it is that same feeling that she gets, the feeling that something’s wrong and it probably involves Artie, that forces her to get out of bed earlier in this chapter.


	3. Modulation

Pete Latimer was only a day or two to being back to his normal self and was definitely more than ready to go back to work.

 

As fun as it was to watch cartoons all day, he really wanted to get back to his real purpose: annoying the heck out of Artie, going artifact hunting with Myka, and snagging and bagging -- while letting Claudia do the tagging.

 

But, something was wrong. 

 

Almost immediately after he realized this, his Farnsworth sharply buzzed, demanding his attention.

 

_ “Pete?”  _

 

“Yeah, Myks?” It wasn’t her tone that gave away her fears. She spoke rather calmly, even though her eyes held a certain anxiety he never wanted to see.

 

_ “We need you.”  _

 

….

 

Myka wanted to panic. Myka wanted to yell. Myka wanted to freak out and shake Artie until he stirred and gruffly snapped at her for irrationally panicking.

 

But Claudia’s fear grounded hers. As Claudia shakily walked away to get some goo Myka forced herself to calm down. She had to be the adult this time, she had to be the wisest one in the room. She had to not only be knowledgeable, but also understanding of all the factors surrounding this issue.

 

She had to be Artie.

 

So, she breathed deeply. She closed her eyes for a brief moment. 

 

And focused.

 

Claudia’s energy really did seem to have had an effect on the artifacts here. As the young woman had stepped away, obnoxious screeches and chilling dissonance dissipated into calming hums.

 

How was it even possible for motionless artifacts to create sound? How could instruments come to life when no one was playing them?

 

Myka had to admit that she was curious about this section. But, stress stopped curiosity from taking over.

 

“Artie?” It was more of a plea than a whisper.

 

She may have been doing this for some time now, but it was moments like these where she realized she was still new to artifacts. She was still inexperienced and she was still learning the ropes. She still needed help.

 

But there was no response.

…

 

Pete made it to the office, the bad vibe continuing to gnaw at him.

 

Myka hadn’t been put together enough to tell him exactly where she was, or who was in trouble.

 

But he knew exactly where to go.

 

What he didn’t -- and what he didn’t  _ want  _ to know -- was who was in danger.

 

…

 

“C’mon, gramps, you know you’re going to have to get up eventually, right?”   
  


Light flickered into the room. And even though there were only trickles of sunshine filtering in, he really didn’t want to properly give into the day just yet. He really just wanted to sigh into his blissfully soft pillow and let sweet, comforting darkness envelope him. 

 

“Claudia, if you know what’s good for you, you’ll let me be.” She scoffed at this, raising an eyebrow.

 

“You know, you’re the one who’s still-”

 

“Do you hear that?”

 

But the faint whisperings of something faded away. He finally cracked open an eye to Claudia sitting on the bed next to him.

 

And she wasn’t smiling.

 

“You really scared us, Artie.” Worry clearly burrowed into her face, and glassy eyes held his gaze. 

 

“I know, kiddo. I know.”

 

“Stay with me?”

 

That faint noise slipped back into the background, growing stronger. As it grew, flickers of light seemed to diminish in the room. Not only that, but Artie felt a small wave of something strange crawl up his body as he paid attention to the music.

 

But  trembling hands reaching out for him grabbed his focus once again.

 

“Please.”

…

 

She wanted the sound of silence to grace the space, the sound of peace and concentration. 

 

But there would be no such luck.

 

Myka scanned it all once more, having no idea what she should be looking for. She was quite unable to really focus on anything, let alone think. 

 

There was just too much sound.

 

Various instruments shrieked for her attention, and not all of them were properly labeled. A melancholic tune cried a few feet away, a horrifically cheerful melody clashed right next door. Her eyes were drawn to a silent viola, but she instinctively knew that wasn’t what caused this.

 

_ Just take it one step at a time, Myka _ .

 

“‘Endless fits of laughter’ -- definitely not the case. ‘Causes depression’ -- potentially, but not likely. ‘World’s tiniest violin -- unending complaining, do not touch!’.” She harrumphed, frustrated that she couldn’t just figure it out. The answer truly was right in front of her and she knew it.

 

If only that damn violin would just  _ shut up _ . One in particular, only a few feet away from Artie, had been incessantly growing in volume, and intensity.

 

And then something clicked into place.

 

“Of course!”

 

It was so _ obvious. _

 

…

 

When Claudia suddenly disappeared, he blinked.  

 

The light was fading in the room, caressing him with a feeling of drowsiness.

 

She had vanished  right before their hands touched.

 

“Claudia?”

 

Artie’s normal paranoia fought to be heard, demanded that he pay attention and that he question what exactly was going on.

 

But there was such a soothing hazy presence in the room that the agent was content to let this mystery remained unsolved. 

 

And as he did so, a serene piece of music finally snaked its way into the room. Properly announced its presence. 

 

“I didn’t know we had a violinist in the house.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sometimes they’re going to lightly curse in this fic. It’s a little out of character, but I find life threatening situations tend to do that. 
> 
> Also, totally forgot to mention this in the beginning, but I do not own Warehouse 13. I hope you’ve been enjoying this little ficlet. It’s rather nice to be writing out a chapter story.


	4. Crescendo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it seems Myka has a plan! Let’s see if it works, shall we?

Artie laid back down, content to let the violin speak for itself.

It’s lovely, haunting melody soon flooded the room. It was so soothing that he was content to allow it to wash over him and bathe his energy in its story.

It was quite refreshing to be listening to live music again.

And yet, somewhere in his thoughts, the agent felt a tinge of something else. 

Maybe tinge wasn’t quite the right word. But, either way, he didn’t really feel like thinking about it. Oh, it’s true that Artie knew there was something in the back of his brain, something calling for his attention.

But did it really matter?

…

“Claudia, it’s that violin.” Goo and gloves in hand, Claudia was incredibly pleased to hear the confidence that strutted out of Myka’s voice.

She had just made it back in time to see a beautiful smile appear on the woman’s face.

…

There was something that was growing the room. Something more draining than… whatever had been causing his weariness before this moment.

But it didn’t really matter how tired he felt. The strings of the violin were humming a particularly entrancing melody, something the cried for attention. It wasn’t a score that Artie had ever had before. That fact in itself made him even more determined to put all of his energy into enjoying this original piece.

But something crackled in the room. He buried himself farther into the bed, not really sure what was changing.

At the very least, the music was no longer serene. Melancholy shifted into outright bitterness, enraged sorrow. It was now painful to listen to, but the violinist sharply demanded his attention.

And, as the sound grew, the room darkened.

 

…

Rivulets of purple began to fall.

But they weren’t falling fast enough.

And within seconds, caution in handling the instrument -- which is what Artie would have wanted, even with all the trouble the artifact caused -- was ditched.

It was soon drowning in flashing purple goo.

...

A level of exhaustion he didn’t think was possible soon overcame him.

As the music seeped further into his core, it became more and more difficult to focus. To breathe.

Artie really just wanted to sleep. Why couldn’t he just sleep now?

And, even though the screeching sounds that assaulted his ears would normally aggravate him into awareness… he just wanted peace.

…

The violin screeched to a halt, and both women sighed in relief.

“Artie?”

He seemed to stir ever so slightly, as though beginning to wake up.

But that was it.

…

Eyes were tightly closed, breathing in exhaustion. Even though peace hadn’t yet arrived, blissful darkness gripped the room.

And a faint knock still managed to land itself on the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, the artifact was neutralized (and that was a rather short chapter, all in all). Nonetheless, there is still more to come. 
> 
> And, on a personal note, I’m relieved to say that I will be able to keep posting on a regular basis. I had a momentary health scare that turned out to be okay -- much to my imminent relief-- so I’m going to keep going.
> 
> Have a nice day!


	5. Credo

“When we get back, I’m going to side with Leena on getting Artie on that diet.” They were carrying their boss, ignoring how pale and feverish he was.

“You can say that again.”

Looks were exchanged over Artie’s slumped head. Normally, Claudia would have repeated herself. Normally, she would have snarked or snickered at the thought of being facetious.

But this wasn’t normal.

“Pete! Thank god you’re here.”

…

Warmth started to overtake the chillingly sweet dark.

A flicker of light snuck into the room.

Artie was oblivious to it all.

…

They made it back to the office, all three out of breath. Sweat drops mingled, and they paused for only a few seconds.

But then the barest hint of a groan emanated from the unconscious agent, and they were pushed to immediate action.

“We need them to know that we’re gonna need help.”

…

“Stay with us, Artie.”

The whisper floated into the room, stirring the man from his calming, hypnotic abyss.

...

Vanessa was still a few hours away.

And, while Leena trembled at Artie’s worn down aura, the housekeeper regained her bearing when she saw the trio’s radiating determination that rose up and flared into the night sky.

…

The obstinate knock came back just as he was moments away from letting go.

“You’re not going anywhere, Artie. We won’t let you.” A whisper emitted through the door. Myka? Pete? Claudia?

It didn’t really matter. It was all so warm. And so stunningly chilly.

And, delightfully dark.

Why wouldn’t they just let him go?

…

“Dr. Calder believes that we can’t do anything about the flu until the artifact effects have fully worn off.”

“And when will that be?”

Her frown deepens.

“We don’t know.”

The determination flickered, as fear started to stitch itself back into their cores.

“So, we stay with him until the flu stops. And we stay with him until he wakes up. Because he is going to wake up.”

Pete nodded at this while Myka just stared. She was beginning to get lost in the possibilities, and her renewed confidence was starting to lose its way to worry.

“C’mon, Myks, Claudia and I are too sick to get him to bed by ourselves.”

…

He knew someone was there long before he could open his eyes. He felt the presence of another person long before he even registered the extra weight on his bed.

The agent turned away, ever so slightly, letting a groan of discomfort escape.

“I’m afraid you can’t do that, Arthur.”

He stiffened. He had not been expecting her.

Mrs. Frederic primly sat at the edge of his bed, fixing him with a reproving stare. It was calm, it was coldly elegant.

And even with blurry vision it was intimidating as hell.

“Mrs. Frederic--” He weakly muttered, his vocal chords unwilling to properly cooperate. She held up a hand, just looking at him.

“You cannot leave us just yet, Arthur.”

…

Claudia had been keeping watch when it happened. Leena and Vanessa disapproved of her expending her energy -- considering she still hadn’t quite gotten over the flu -- but they allowed her to keep the occasional watch over him.

But there had been movement, something stronger than an unconscious twitch. Something more comforting than a stray whimper or a faint groan.

She couldn’t help but jump, staring at the one person she considered a dad-- a father-figure. Hoping that this was proof to believe that he was going to okay.

And maybe even wake up.

…

How does she do that?

Whether he was dreaming or awake, Mrs. Frederic always had the capacity to appear and vanish at a moment’s notice.

But, Artie couldn’t think about that. A drop of water landed on his wrist, immediately stealing the agent’s attention. It forced him to blink groggily, craning his neck to examine the room.

It honestly took far too much effort to figure out that there was no way any water could have gotten into the room.

So how did it get there?

…

When he had stirred and mumbled something very softly under his breath, disbelieving tears formed at what felt like a hallucination.

And when she caught a perplexed whisper about Mrs. F, incredulous laughter sprung to life.

“Pete! Myka! Leena! Dr. Calder! Somebody!” She found her breath coming back, she could something bubble inside her core. “I think Artie might be waking up!”

C’mon, gramps. I know you can wake up. Please, please, wake up.

Tears started to drop, though she didn’t notice and she certainly didn’t care.

Wake up for me, Artie.

…

The room seemed to reverberate. Whispering emerged once more from behind the door.

Light was coming back.


	6. Tutti

Vanessa surveyed the room, glancing around and just observing the environment.

 

She was quite honestly rather unimpressed.

 

“So, this is where you’ve been hiding from us?” Artie couldn't help but cringe ever so slightly at her word choice, feeling unusually abashed.

 

She then pulled back a curtain, flooding him with light without a warning. His eyes shut closed, his lungs tightened--

 

“Oh, no, you don’t get to do that. You don’t get to be melodramatic this time.” 

 

The light seemed to snicker at this, and he felt more of it breeze into the room.

 

“Don’t I normally get a choice when it comes to ‘waking up’?” It had taken him longer than he would have liked to realize that what he was currently experiencing wasn’t actually reality. He didn’t know if this were some sort of dream, some sort of artifact-induced coma, or something MacPherson put together to haunt him from beyond the grave.

 

He felt her coldly smile at this remark, heard her nostrils flicker with only mild amusement, and knew Vanessa was in her I’m-only-going-to-be-nice-to-a-certain-extent and don't-be-an-obstinate-idiot-and-just-do-what-you’re-told modes.

 

But the weariness still fought to scream, still clawed at him, trying to make its obstinance presence be known once more. 

 

“Give me a break.” She scoffed. And though she seemed to be speaking to the room, and not him, her sharpness still stung.

 

It was Vanessa, after all, who was talking after all. Or, at least, it was some version of Vanessa.

 

Either way, it was the woman who he was always pleased to see. It was the woman who made it worth it to suffer through an appendectomy on a yearly basis. It was the woman who unknowingly borrowed his heart every time she left the room. 

 

It was the woman he would be willing to face the light for. 

 

Beams of sun were now pouring into the room. The whispers behind the door came back louder than ever before. He was uncertain of what would come next -- if this were all a trap induced by some artifact, if this was a flu hallucination.

 

But, “It seems that ‘I’ve got miles to go before I can sleep’.”

 

“Quoting Robert Frost isn’t going to get you anywhere, Artie.” He grumbled in an almost goodnaturedly fashion at this remark, causing her to let out a playful snort.

 

But, jokes aside, they both knew she was right.

 

“It’s time isn’t it?”

 

Even with his eyelids firmly shut once again, Artie could feel the sun blind the room. The muffled whispers grew into cries, into identities.

 

“Artie, please come back to us.”

 

“If you don't come back soon, Artie, we’re hijacking the Jaguar!” 

 

“Artie, please don't leave me. Please prove me wrong and  _ don't  _ leave like everyone else.”

 

He smiled briefly, finally hearing the distinct voices that been an indistinguishable wall of sound.

 

And, though he loathed it, Artie was ready for Vanessa to disappear. He didn't want to her leave and he honestly didn't really want to leave himself.

 

However, it was time.

 

Nonetheless, when he finally opened his eyes once more, he was shocked to feel the ghost of a soft kiss. Vanessa was--

 

...

 

“Welcome back to the land of the living. And pizza.”

 

Of course Pete would be the first person he’d wake up to. Even with his eyes closed as tight as they were, he still knew when Pete was in the room.

 

Artie grumbled to himself before he caught the sound of a sniffle. A distinctly un-Pete-like sniffle.

 

He then realized both of his hands were being held. Not only that, but his hands were being held by two  _ different _ people. 

 

_ Oh, what the hell: if I’m still dreaming, at least I’m in good company. It's probably time to properly wake up and face whatever this is. _

 

But, something told him that this was reality. This certainly didn’t feel like the soothing, dark ignorance he had experienced. He also didn't hear any violinist in the background. 

 

And nobody had cried in his not-reality.

 

So, he cracked open tired eyes to properly confirm that Pete was not the only in the room.

 

And he was, as almost always, quite correct.

 

A blurry Myka was sitting to his left. On his right, Claudia clutched his hand while trembling with what he hoped were happy tears. Pete was sitting near the end of the bed, seeming to be struggling a little emotionally himself -- judging from the water marks that graced his face.

 

After a moment, Artie recognized the beautiful silhouette of Vanessa standing near the window. Furthermore, Leena was definitely radiating pure relief near the door. He didn't need to be a clairvoyant to see that. 

 

Even Mrs. Frederic was her. The woman was standing right beside Claudia, seeming to just indifferently study Artie.

 

The agent in question was suddenly very relieved he didn’t have his glasses: he didn't want to see all that emotion in “high definition”.

 

Nevertheless, he was still determined to try to get up. Or, at the very least, not feel as weak as he did.

 

“Oh no you don’t!” 

 

“Don’t even think about it, Arthur.”

 

“If you actually believe that you can just get up after all of that--”

 

“Artie, just stop!”

 

“Really, Artie?”

 

“Don’t, Artie.  _ Please _ .”

 

The words shot him down. Halted him in his tracks.

 

Six different tones, six different attitudes, six different voices. 

 

All of them conveyed the same message.

 

Hands simultaneously tightened their grip, and he found himself gently restrained. For his own good, of course.

 

And, if that wasn’t bad enough, he could vaguely see Mrs. Frederic actually crossing her arms. Even without wearing his glasses, it was obvious that she wasn’t pleased about that last action of his.

 

“Okay, okay,” He did not care for the raspiness of his voice. It made sense that his tone was carrying an unusually harsh quality. Didn't mean he had to like it. He took a certain amount of pride in his ability to sound gruff, but now he just sounded weak. 

 

A glass of water was passed to his lips and he was allowed to take a few heavenly sips before it was taken away. He then cleared his throat, questions buzzing around his brain, his curiosity kicking into full gear, and--

 

“No one will be ‘filling you in’,  _ Arthur, _ until you have properly recovered.” The unspoken  _ and that is final _ echoed in the room. He could only blink, knowing better than to contradict the clear order from Mrs. Frederic.

 

But he still had one--

 

“And you will  _ not  _ be doing any work of any kind for at least a few days if not a week.” Dr. Calder was clearly in the room now. Not Vanessa. “You are incredibly lucky that this little episode wasn’t any worse than it has been. No work, no stress,  _ and you will _ be starting a healthy diet  _ immediately _ .”

 

Blinking seemed redundant, so he decided to nod instead.

 

Fortunately, Artie knew when he was outnumbered.

 

So, the agent exhaled a frustrated sigh. Even though he knew he would receive no sympathy from anyone in the room he was still vexed about the situation.

 

But he knew better than to argue or fight them. At least, until Mrs. Frederic and Vanessa left.

 

“Furthermore, everyone is under strict orders to keep you in shape whilst you recover, Arthur. Please do not test my patience.” 

 

That just took the wind out of his already strained sails. So, he proceeded to breathe in, the close his eyes, to let himself gently relax. A meditation of sorts, something he rarely had the patience or the time to attempt.

 

Judging from the approval that filled the room, he had made the right decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do believe I owe an explanation for the artifact. So, I suppose I’ll just have to write up a little epilogue ^_^


	7. Resolution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It had taken Artie far longer than he would have preferred to get to a sufficient level of health.
> 
> (It had taken even longer for everyone to ease up on the mother-henning).

It had taken Artie far longer than he would have preferred to get to a sufficient level of health.

(It had taken even longer for everyone to ease up on the mother-henning).

Pete was always popping out of nowhere to help with anything for days after the agent had been cleared for work.

Myka kept a sharp eye on him -- and would be doing so for weeks -- long before he’d taken his first step out of bed.

Leena _and_ Vanessa combined forces to make sure he wasn’t sneaking any sort of treats into his diet. And even roped Myka into helping their efforts by having random food inspections of his pockets and office drawers.

(Pete had only tried to help him once with said inspections, and they would never speak of the incidence again).

Claudia found any and every excuse to trail after him. Inventory suddenly became something she _loved_ to do -- but only if he were also doing inventory. And, instead of pushing him away to make new friends in Univille or to go to concerts, he found himself being asked to come along on many of her more laid back adventures.

Now, when Mrs. Frederic had shown up in the Warehouse without a reason, that’s when he realized that they all were actually afraid of him having some sort of relapse.

...

“ _Okay_. Why don’t I explain what the violin did and why it’s not going to happen again?”

They froze like skunks caught in the garage, and he really had to resist the urge to chuckle at this.

“Well, it seemed like the artifact was coma-inducing.” Myka started, but soon faltered. He smiled at this, letting her have a few more moments to add any additional thoughts.

He would never admit it aloud, but once he realized the extent of the artifact’s influence... he had been horrified at how close he’d been to dea-- to not always being around. While death and insanity always haunted the doorstep of the Warehouse, it was still shocking to be moments away from it.

And so, he researched the artifact. He dug further into that particular violin’s history than even he normally would have. Much to his frustration, there wasn't much recorded -- at least, much from the agents who originally retrieved it.

Nonetheless, discovering that knowledge was probably one of the main reasons he was able to calmly speak about the subject today.

“Any other theories?”

He gave them another few moments, before a fainter smile reappeared. Ah, yes, it was time for another teachable moment.

“For once, I won’t bore you with the details of the history,” The typical sarcastic response didn’t come, but the lack of it didn’t give him reason to pause. “Essentially, whoever touched the violin would have their energy drained to a point where they passed away. In this last case, it induced a coma. Sometimes it didn’t. In fact, there had been one case in Cremona, Italy -- a place known for violin-making, in fact -- around 1854--”

“And, thank you, Professor Nielsen. I do believe you said you weren't going to bore us today?“ But the snark was lacking any real bite.

“Moving on to why it’s not going to happen again,” Artie continued on, as though uninterrupted. “We have now all learned not to underestimate that section of the Warehouse. In fact,” He paused, knowing what he was going to say next was going to surprise them. Hell, it had surprised him when he first thought of it.

“I had some ideas for constructing earplugs that neutralize artifact vibrations and therefore the effects. It's a little dangerous to try to use Neutralizer in such a fashion, but it may have its uses -- if we can reduce the potential risks. If that is possible, then when we have to take inventory of that section again, the music won’t have such a strong effect -- if any.” Claudia perked up at this, about to speak again.

“And, yes, I would appreciate your help on this, kiddo.” She beamed.

…

Months later, and that whole episode seemed to be behind them.

Oh, the diet still remained -- much to Artie’s clear frustration.

And, the worried glances sometimes poked their way into a scene or two.

And, yes, there was still the occasional “let’s treat Artie like he’s glass” moment.

But, at least--

“ _Achoo_!”

He sniffled, hardly believing his luck. It was one of the rare moments where he was actually alone in the office that he sneezed. 

Now, Artie knew that sneezing was going to be making an unfortunate comeback over the course of the next few days. Especially because, even though it was not the flu, it wasn't "just allergies".

And he also knew that he’d eventually be firmly ushered out of the Warehouse if he didn’t willingly walk out first.

He waited another moment, before allowing a sigh of relief to escape into the air. Nobody had been in earshot, there was no immediate concern that he’d have to deal with. All was actually well for once.

“I presume you will be calling it an early day, Arthur?” Artie did not shriek or jolt in his chair, as much as he may have wanted to.

_How_ does _she do that?_

She was still waiting for a response.

“Well, actually--”

He sneezed again.

And then proceeded to sigh in defeat.

“I’m glad to hear it.”

  
_Fin_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was definitely a fun little treat to put together. I hope you’ve all enjoyed the adventure. Have a nice day!

**Author's Note:**

> Doesn’t take place after any particular episode, just some time in the Season 1-Season 2 range. I haven't seen the show in ages, so I'm referencing my memory for this.
> 
> This one is for KJay99.
> 
> And this was supposed to only be a cute one-shot sick fic… but it turned into this. Heh.


End file.
